Saturday, March 28, 2026

Born Innocent Pays Homage to Redd Kross, "The Most Important Band in the World"

BORN INNOCENT: 
THE REDD KROSS STORY 
(Andrew Reich, USA, 
2024, 87 minutes) 

"Redd Kross to me will always be one of the most important bands, not just in America, but in the world."--Thurston Moore 

Nowadays it seems as if every recording artist, no matter how obscure, has their own documentary, because many do. 

With a lot of enthusiasm and a little crowd-funding, an untrained director could shoot an entire film about their brother's band on an iPhone and make it available on YouTube or even Tubi. It might not be any good, but it can be done. 

Redd Kross, on the other hand, has fully earned the documentary treatment. They never hit the highest of highs, but considering those who did--some of whom came crashing down with a thud--it feels like a blessing in disguise, because after nearly 50 years, the McDonald brothers are still here. Still writing, recording, and touring. And musically: they still have the goods. 

They were also fortunate to join forces with Andrew Reich, an Emmy Award-winning filmmaker well suited to the task. Though Born Innocent marks Reich's directorial debut, he's an experienced television writer and producer (including seven seasons of Friends), a dedicated fan since the early-1980s, and a spectacularly determined individual, because the documentary was 10 years in the making, and it shows through Jeff's ever-changing hairstyles. 

Reich begins at the beginning with a look at suburban Hawthorne, CA in the years after the Beach Boys put the town on the map–but once its best days were over. 

He uses footage from Penelope Spheeris's 1983 streetpunk film Suburbia to depict the extent to which it had fallen into disrepair. As Redd Kross associate Chuck Kelley puts it, "The American Dream was over in Hawthorne." (Reich doesn't mention it, but Chuck worked at Video Archives with Quentin Tarantino, and served as a music consultant on 1994's Pulp Fiction.)

Jeff (born 1963) and Steve (1967) had a roof over their heads and supportive parents, both of whom appear in the film, so it wasn't all bad. At 15, Jeff was in middle school when they started making music together, which isn't unusual, but what was unusual is that Steve was only 11. 

It wasn't just the beginning of the band--first known as the Tourists, then Red Cross, and finally Redd Kross--but the beginning of a run of drummers, which has continued throughout their career. In the film, each one who appears on screen has a number next to their name, like "Keith Morris (#1)," "Ron Reyes (#2)," and "Dez Cadena (#3)." If you know anything about the Southern California punk scene, you'll recognize those names immediately, since all three fronted Black Flag before moving on to other bands, like the Circle Jerks and OFF!, in which Steve, a widely-admired bass player, reunited with Morris while on an extended break from Redd Kross. 


Though Jeff and Steve were inspired by proto-punks like the New York Dolls and Ramones--Tommy Erdelyi, aka Tommy Ramone, produced 1987's Neurotica--they skewed more pop than their punk peers. Their music was just as fast and loud, but less angry and more fun. In time, they would become a less-easy-to-classify garage/power-pop/psych-rock hybrid. 

If they weren't the only So-Cal punks glued to the boob tube--Black Flag's 1981 "TV Party" is a case in point--they took things further as they melded references from 1960s and '70s sitcoms, like The Partridge Family and The Brady Bunch, and made-for-TV movies, like Born Innocent with Linda Blair, into their work. Their cover of Boyce and Hart's "Blow You a Kiss in the Wind" on 1984's Teen Babes from Monsanto was directly inspired by the version sung by Elizabeth Montgomery, in her Serena guise, on Bewitched

Beyond their obsession with self-described "psychotic garbage culture," they were relentless about calling and networking, and regional fame came early. 

They were just getting their feet wet when Hollywood's Posh Boy Records came calling. Things got off to such an auspicious start that David Bowie showed up to their first gig. It's possible he was there to see Black Flag rather than Redd Kross, but it's likely he got to hear their beach movie-inspired classic "Annette's Got the Hits," a firm Rodney on the ROQ fave. 

When fame comes fast for a band, though, there's always a dark cloud waiting around the bend. It's the way of the world, though nothing about Redd Kross conforms to cliché–there's often a twist–and at 13, Steve was kidnapped by a superfan. It's amazing he emerged from the experience largely unscathed. His abductor would not be so lucky. 

The band would pick up where they left off, but they were growing tired of the whole punk thing, and set themselves apart by growing out their hair and their songs (by a minute or two). It wasn't the done thing at the time, at least not for musicians outside of the hard rock and hair metal scenes. 

Unfortunately, Jeff also developed a serious drug problem. Though the brothers admit they were hopped up on speed while recording Teen Babes, things would become so bad for Jeff that he declines to go into any detail, while Steve is succinct: "It was a nightmare." It seems wise that Reich spoke to the brothers both together and separately, because Steve proves more forthcoming when it comes to their most painful experiences. 

Left: Jim Blanchard poster for a 1987 
KCMU-presented show at the Central Tavern

Though many fans assumed the band were hopped up on hallucinogens while recording Neurotica, their trippiest album, they actually made it after Jeff emerged from rehab. Even if it features some of their catchiest melodies, the album made a big impact on the Seattle scene of the 1980s, possibly because they found the sweet spot (pun intended) between the tough, anthemic rock of KISS--they even covered "Deuce" on Teen Babes--and the bubblegum psych of Tommy James and the Shondells. That isn't to say they sounded like Cheap Trick or Sweet necessarily, but they're in the same ballpark, and their exuberant live shows went down a storm in the Pacific Northwest.

In the film, Reich speaks with a number of PNW (or former PNW) musicians, including Mark Arm and Steve Turner of Mudhoney, Buzz Osborne and Dale Crover of the Melvins (with whom Steve has played bass), Kim Thayil of Soundgarden, Jeff Ament of Pearl Jam, Matt Cameron of Soundgarden and Pearl Jam, and the entirety of the Fastbacks. No one from Nirvana puts in an appearance, though the band, especially on 1991's Nevermind, came closest to forging a similar hard-meets-soft alchemy, but with less of the groovy, tambourine-bedecked vibe that set Redd Kross apart from the PNW milieu. 

It's no surprise that major labels took notice, and the band signed with Atlantic, which released 1990's Third Eye, the album on which they adopted a more overtly peace-and-love look in combination with a cleaner sound. 

I was pretty disappointed, and in retrospect, Jeff and Steve don't seem all that thrilled either, though hearing songs like "Annie's Gone" live really emphasizes the fact that sterile production rather than the songs or performances deserves the blame. (At the time, I was music director at KCMU, and though I added the album to rotation, the brothers saw my dispirited comment sticker while visting the station, and even quoted me on the air!)

In the '90s, they were hanging out with more of a movie-oriented crowd thanks to Steve's relationship with Sofia Coppola. In fact, that's her on the cover of Third Eye with a mask obscuring her face and strategically-arranged hair keeping the censors at bay, unlike the then-contemporaneous topless cover art for Jane's Addiction's Nothing's Shocking or Boss Hog's Drinkin', Lechin' & Lyin'. When sales didn't live up to Atlantic's expectations, the band segued to Mercury subsidiary This Way Up through which they released two more full-lengths, Phaseshifter and Show World, before packing it in. 

The brothers were burned out, and went their separate ways. As they put it in a song off their first EP, "Burn out, something once for fun, burn out, now I can't get it done." That might have been the end of that, except it wasn't. 

Just as drug addiction didn't destroy the band, an extended break didn't either. Granted, I wouldn't blame them for reforming simply to play some anniversary shows before going away again, but that's not what happened. 


Instead they came roaring back with all-new material on their 2012 Merge Records debut, Rehearsing the Blues. They've since released a second album on the label and a double-LP set on In the Red. Though the pandemic put the kibosh on a tour behind 2019's Beyond the Door, they're on the road at the time of this writing and they'll be continuing on through late June. 

There's a lot to like about Redd Kross, but until I watched this documentary I didn't appreciate what a significant role women have played in their musical lives. It's yet another characteristic that sets them apart both from their brethren in the So-Cal punk and PNW grunge scenes. Consequently, a lot of women appear in the film, including Nina Gordon of Veruca Salt, Lulu Gargiulo and Kim Warnick of the Fastbacks, the late Kim Shattuck of the Pandoras and the Muffs, filmmaker Allison Anders, and Jeff's wife, Charlotte Caffey of the Go-Go's, and Steve's wife, Anna Waronker of that dog. Not too surprisingly, Jeff and Charlotte's daughter, Astrid McDonald, is a musician. 

Even at the height of their glam era, I don't believe that Jeff and Steve cared that anyone might think they were gay or fey or girlish. Some speakers go so far as to claim that hair metal bands like Guns N' Roses and Poison took their cues from Redd Kross. I have no idea if this is true, but members of those Sunset Strip outfits were known to frequent their shows. 

At 84 minutes, Born Innocent: The Redd Kross Story doesn't cover everything, but it's a fast-moving, entertaining ride that ends up being inspiring, and even a little touching, without any heavyhandedness on the part of either director or subjects, but fans will absolutely need the special edition home-video version, since the extras include a commentary track and deeper dives into Jeff's record collection, their participation in Dave Markey's Lovedolls films, and live performances from most every stage of their career, including an unplugged living room session where it's just Jeff and Steve playing and singing super-catchy songs that will never grow old, no matter the vicissitudes of time and taste. 


Born Innocent: The Redd Kross Story is out now on DVD and two-Blu-ray set through MVD. Additional extras include featurettes, reproductions of original handbills, and an essay from Andrew Reich. Also out: the band's oral history, Now You're One of Us, written with Dan Epstein. Images from the Born Innocent Kickstarter (poster image and "Burn Out" cover art), Al Flipside via Pop Matters (on stage in 1979), Hake's Auctions (Redd Kross "Linda Blair" poster), and Wanda Martin via Lyndsanity (Jeff and Steve in 2024).

Saturday, March 21, 2026

Lost and Found Film Reviews: The Orphanage, Not Forgotten, and The Skin I Live In

Since I recently posted a list of Spanish horror films, I checked to see if any of my reviews of these and related titles had disappeared from the internet, and I found three. Not Forgotten wasn't made by a native Spanish speaker, but it fits in well enough in terms of cast and even director, since Paz Vega is Spanish, the film is set near the Mexican border, and Dror Soref is of Spanish descent.

THE ORPHANAGE / El Orfanato
(Juan Antonio Bayona, 2007, Spain, 105 minutes)

It's only his first feature film, but Spain's Juan Antonio Bayona [now known as JA Bayona] has already figured out the secret to a successful supernatural thriller--emphasize character over special effects. Like Walter Salles's 2005 Dark Water remake and Alejandro Amenábar's 2001 The Others, The Orphanage pivots on a pretty woman and an unusual child.

When her old orphanage goes on the market, Laura (Belén Rueda, Amenábar's The Sea Inside) and Carlos (Fernando Cayo) settle in with their son, Simón (Roger Príncep). Once acclimated to the remote seaside surroundings, they plan to re-open it as a home for special needs children. 

Meanwhile, their seven-year-old doesn't know he's adopted or that he has a life-threatening illness. He does, however, have a lot of imaginary playmates. When Simón disappears without a trace, his parents contact the police, but to no avail. Because Laura has been hearing odd noises and having strange visions, including the one pictured above, they proceed to consult a medium. 

Aurora (Geraldine Chaplin, speaking perfect Spanish) is convinced they aren't alone. Carlos has his doubts, but Laura makes like a detective and revisits her childhood--through photographs, home movies, and exploration of the spooky stone manor--to determine who or what abducted her son. 

Produced and presented by Guillermo del Toro, The Orphanage is less fanciful than his works, though it does bear a vague resemblance to the ghostly Devil's Backbone. There are a few gory make-up effects, but Bayona mostly preys on our fear of the unknown to craft a first-rate fright fest. 

NOT FORGOTTEN
(Dror Soref, 2009, USA, 
96 minutes)

In sleepy Del Rio, near the border between Texas and Mexico, strange things are afoot. 

In the scene-setting prologue, writer/director Dror Soref's supernatural-tinged mystery-thriller offers a glimpse of black magic and brutal murder before introducing Jack Bishop (The Mentalist's Simon Baker), a widowed loan officer, his beautiful Mexican-American wife, Amaya (Paz Vega, Sex and Lucia), and his rebellious 12-year-old daughter, Toby (Chloë Grace Moretz, who previously appeared with Baker on CBS series The Guardian). 

After Toby disappears during soccer practice, the tight-knit townspeople come together to track her down. While the cops, including Amaya's cousin Casper Navarro (Michael DeLorenzo) and Detective Sanchez (The Shield's Benito Martinez), pursue leads, the media reports on the growing Santa Muerte sect (a Christo-Pagan religion centering on blood sacrifice), and Amaya persuades her skeptical husband to consult a South of the Border psychic. In the course of the various investigations, it transpires that Jack and Amaya have been hiding crucial details about their respective pasts. 

After a slow and steady build-up, events take a turn for the weird and violent as Jack comes closer to finding his daughter at the same time the authorities come closer to finding out his true identity. Soref's second feature presents a twisted ride into the dark night of one man's divided soul. Best known for his amiable television work, the versatile Baker reveals a more intense side little seen since George Romero's 2005 Land of the Dead

THE SKIN I LIVE IN / La Piel que Habito
(Pedro Almodóvar, 2011, Spain, 120 minutes)

For his maiden voyage into horror, Spanish maestro Pedro Almodóvar leaves the gore behind for a plunge into psychologically disturbing territory. 

If the director suggests more than he shows, the human body still takes center stage, starting with Toledo plastic surgeon Robert Ledgard (a chillingly understated Antonio Banderas) who did his best to restore his wife to her former glory after a fiery car crash, but his efforts were in vain. 

Since then, he's concentrated on perfecting a skin substitute that repels damage. Like Dr. Frankenstein, he's a single-minded obsessive, and even his housekeeper, Marilia (Marisa Paredes, in her fifth film with Almodóvar), describes him as "crazy," but that doesn't dim her devotion to him any less. 

After tragedy re-enters Ledgard's life, he finds the perfect subject on which to test out his superhuman skin. Almodóvar begins in the present before backtracking to explain how Vera (Elena Anaya, Sex and Lucia) came to Ledgard's attention. Now, he keeps her locked in a room through which he observes her every move via surveillance cameras and one-way glass. 

At all times, she wears a surprisingly flattering nude body stocking in order to heal properly, and spends her days reading Alice Munro novels and making Louise Bourgeois-inspired sculptures until Marilia's hotheaded son drops by, at which point the household dynamics spin out of control. 

In adapting the late French writer Thierry Jonquet's 1984 crime novel Mygale, aka Tarantula, Almodóvar has embarked on his own perfectly-controlled project. 

Like the lovely Vera, the film offers cool, attractive surfaces, but the secret behind the woman and the world she inhabits will chill you to the bone. 

Images from Rex/PicHouse/Everett via The Guardian (Belén Rueda and ghost kid in The Orphanage), Slackerwood (Simon Baker in Not Forgotten), and the IMDb (Antonio Banderas and Elena Anaya in The Skin I Live In).

Sunday, March 15, 2026

Survey of French and Spanish Horror Essentials

Here are two more lists I compiled for culturally-specific panels at Crypticon

I didn't do any crowd-sourcing in these instances, so I'm more familiar with many of these films. Co-panelist and Crypticon programmer Jason Weiss came up with even longer lists; I've incorporated his Mexican and Spanish suggestions and may add his French ones later, in addition to other updates. For now, the first list ends in 2018 and the second in 2019. 

As usual, I've ignored most sequels, though a few films, like [Rec], have spawned several. In order by release date, plus director, notable writers and/or cast members, country of origin (where relevant), and a few notes. 

Previous lists: Canadian horror and the horror western.

SURVEY OF FRENCH HORROR

- Les Vampires (Louis Feuillade, 1915-16) 
- The Beauty and the Beast La Belle et la Bête (Jean Cocteau and René Clément; Jean Marais, 1948) 
Diabolique Les Diaboliques (Henri-Georges Clouzot; Simone Signoret, Véra Clouzot, and Paul Meurisse, 1955) 
Eyes Without a Face / Les Yeux sans Visage (Georges Franju; author Jean Redon; Édith Scob and Alida Valli; composer Maurice Jarre, 1960) 

Other works: abattoir documentary The Blood of Beasts / Le Sang des Bêtes (1948; included with the Criterion Collection edition). May have influenced: Seconds (John Frankenheimer, 1966) and Face/Off (John Woo, 1997).

The Nude Vampire / La Vampire Nue (Jean Rollin, 1970) 
- Daughters of the Darkness (Harry Kümel; Delphine Seyrig, English-language, Belgian, 1971)
Malpertuis (Harry Kümel; Orson Welles, Sylvie Vartan, and Jean-Pierre Cassel, Dutch, 1971) 
- Trouble Every Day (Claire Denis; Vincent Gallo and Béatrice Dalle, 2001) 
High Tension / Haute Tension (Alexandre Aja; Cécile de France, Maïwenn, and Philippe Nahon [from Gaspar Noé’s I Stand Alone; we also mentioned Noé's Irréversible], 2003) 

Also: The Hills Have Eyes remake (Aaron Stanford, 2006) and Mirrors (Keifer Sutherland; co-written by High Tension's Grégory Levasseur, 2008).

- Martyrs (Pascal Laugier, 2008) 

Influenced: Us (Jordan Peele had Lupita Nyong'o watch it to prepare).

They Came Back / The Revenants (Robin Campillo, 2004) 

Serialized as The Revenants / The Returned (2012-2015). Other work: BPM (Beats per Minute) (Cannes Grand Prix, César Award for Best Film, 2017).

Inside / À l'Intérieur (Julien Maury, 2007) 
- Amer (Hélène Cattet and Bruno Forzani, French-Belgian, 2009) 
The Strange Colour of Your Body's Tears / L'Etrange Couleur des Larmes de Ton Corps (Hélène Cattet and Bruno Forzani, 2013) 
- Raw (Julia Ducournau, 2017) 
Let the Corpses Tan / Laissez Bronzer les Cadavres (Hélène Cattet and Bruno Forzani, 2017) 
- Revenge (Coralie Fargeat; Matilda Lutz, 2017) 

English-language films with a French pedigree: Jacques Tourneur's Cat People, I Walked With a Zombie, and Night of the Demonand two with Catherine Deneuve: Roman Polanski's Repulsion and Tony Scott's The Hunger.


SLICING UP EYEBALLS WITH SPANISH-LANGUAGE HORROR FROM LUIS BUÑUEL TO GUILLERMO DEL TORO AND BEYOND

Unlike the French films, many of the Spanish titles were dubbed into English, so only so many are actually in Spanish, even as the filmmakers are all native Spanish speakers, though--just to confuse the issue further--I've included made-in-English films from Spanish-speaking directors. I've also listed the mostly-free services by which I streamed some of these titles. 

- Un Chien Andalou / An Andalusian Dog (Luis Buñuel and Salvador Dalí, Spanish, 1929) 
- Drácula (George Melford, Carlos Villarías as Conde Drácula, Cuban/American, 1931) [YouTube] 
- The Body Snatchers / El Ladron de Cadaveres (Fernando Mendez, 1957)
- The Vampire / El Vampiro (Fernando Mendez, 1957)
- Macario (Roberto Gavaldón, 1960) 
The Awful Dr. Orloff / Gritos en la Noche (Jesús Franco; Howard Vernon, Spanish, 1961) 
 
Generally considered the first horror film produced in Spain.  
 
- The Curse of the Crying Woman / La Maldición de la Llorona (Rafael Baledón, 1961)
The Exterminating Angel / El Angel Exterminador (Luis Buñuel, 1962) [YouTube] 
- Even the Wind Is Afraid / Hasta el Viento Tiene Miedo (Carlos Enrique Taboada, 1968)
- The Book of Stone / El Libro de Piedra (Carlos Enrique Taboada, 1969)
The House That Screamed / La Residencia (Narciso Ibáñez Serrador, Uruguayan, 1969) [Tubi] 
- Night of the Bloody Apes / La Horripilante Bestia Humana (René Cardona, 1969)
- She Killed in Ecstasy / Mrs. Hyde (Jesús Franco, 1971) 
- Vampyros Lesbos / Las Vampiras (Jesús Franco, 1971) 


- The Blood Spattered Bride / La Novia Ensangrentada (Vicente Aranda, 1972) 
- Tombs of the Blind Dead / La Noche del Terror Ciego (Amando de Ossorio, Spanish, 1972) [Vudu] 
- The Corruption of Chris Miller La Corrupción de Chris Miller (Juan Antonio Bardem [Javier Bardem's uncle], 1973)
- Count Dracula's Great Love / El Gran Amor del Conde Drácula (Javier Aguirre, 1973)
- The Holy Mountain / La Montaña Sagrada (Alejandro Jodorowsky, 1973) 
- Horror Rises from the Tomb / El Espanto Surge de la Tumba (Carlos Aured, 1973) 
Spirit of the Beehive / El Espíritu de la Colmena (Víctor Erice, Spanish, 1973) 
- A Virgin Among the Living Dead (Jesús Franco, 1973) 
- Bloody Moon (Jesús Franco, 1974) 
Let Sleeping Corpses Lie / No Profanar el Sueño de los Muertos (Jorge Grau, 1974)
- Blacker Than the Night / Más Negro que la Noche (Carlos Enrique Taboada, 1975) 
- Satanic Pandemonium / Satánico Pandemonium (Gilberto Martinez Solares, 1975) 
Who Can Kill a Child? / ¿Quién Puede Matar a un Niño? (Narciso Ibáñez Serrador, 1976)
- Alucarda / Alucarda, la Hija de las Tinieblas (Juan López Moctezuma, 1977) 
- Arrebato / Rapture (Iván Zulueta, 1979)
- Aunt AlejandraLa Tía Alejandra (Arturo Ripstein, 1979)

- Night of the Werewolf / El Retorno del Hombre Lobo (Jacinto Molina, 1981) 
- In a Glass Cage / Tras el Cristal (Agustí Villaronga, 1986) 
- Poison for the Fairies (Carlos Enrique Taboada, 1986) 
- Anguish / Angustia (Bigas Luna, 1987) 
- Edge of the Axe / Al Filo del Hacha (José Ramón Larraz, 1988) 
- Santa Sangre / Holy Blood (Alejandro Jodorowsky, 1989) 
Cronos (Guillermo del Toro, Mexican, 1993) 
- The Dead Mother / La Madre Muerta (Juanma Bajo Ulloa, 1993) 
- El Día de la Bestia / The Day of the Beast (Álex de la Iglesia, Spanish, 1995) [Vudu] 
- Profundo Carmesí / Deep Crimson (Arturo Ripstein, Mexican, 1996) 
- Tesis / Thesis (Alejandro Amenábar, Spanish-Chilean, 1996) [YouTube]
- El Espinazo del Diablo / The Devil's Backbone (Guillermo del Toro, 2001) 
The Others / Los Otros (Alejandro Amenábar, 2001) 
- The Backwoods / Bosque de Sombras (Koldo Serra, 2006)
- Pan's Labyrinth / El Laberinto del Fauno (Guillermo del Toro, 2006) 

Shout-out to Doug Jones, star of at least five Guillermo del Toro films. 

- [Rec] (Jaume Balagueró and Paco Plaza, Spanish, 2007) 
Los Cronocrímenes / Timecrimes (Nacho Vigalondo, Spanish, 2007) 
- El Orfanato / The Orphanage (JA Bayona, Geraldine Chaplin cameo, Spanish, 2007) 
- [Rec] 2 (Jaume Balagueró and Paco Plaza, 2009) 

Geraldine Chaplin made seven films, including Cría Cuervos (1976), with then-partner Carlos Saura--and over 30 films with Spanish-speaking filmmakers. Ana Torrent from Cría Cuervos stars in Spirit of the Beehive

- Julia's Eyes Los Ojos de Julia (Guillem Morales, 2010)
- KidnappedSecuestrados (Miguel Ángel Vivas, 2010)
- We Are What We Are / Somos lo Que Hay (Jorge Grau, 2010) 
- Juan de los Muertos / Juan of the Dead (Alejandro Brugués, Spanish-Cuban, 2011) [Hulu]  
- The Skin I Live In / La Piel Que Habito (Pedro Almodóvar, 2011) 
- Sleep Tight / Mientras Duermes (Jaume Balagueró, 2011) 
- Here Comes the Devil / Ahí va el Diablo (Adrian Garcia Bogliano, 2012)
Witching & Bitching / Las Brujas de Zugarramurdi (Álex de la Iglesia, Spanish, 2015) [Prime] 
- The House at the End of Time / La Casa del Fin de los Tiempos (Alejandro Hidalgo, 2013)
- Mama (Andy Muschietti, Argentinian, 2013) 
 
Muschietti would go on to make It (2017) and It Chapter Two (2019). 
  
- Shrew's Nest / Musarañas (Juanfer Andrés and Esteban Roel, 2014) 
Psiconautas, los Niños Olvidados / Birdboy: The Forgotten Children (Alberto Vázquez and Pedro Rivero, animated, Spanish, 2016) 
- The Untamed La Región Salvaje (Amat Escalante, 2016) 
- We Are the Flesh / Tenemos la Carne (Emilano Rocha Minter, 2016)  
- El Bar / The Bar (Álex de la Iglesia, Spanish, 2017) [Netflix] 
- Veronica / Verónica (Paco Plaza, 2017)
La Casa Lobo / The Wolf House (Joaquin Cociña and Cristóbal León, Chilean, stop motion, 2018) 
- VuelvenTigers Are Not Afraid (Issa López, Mexican, 2017) [Prime]
- The Platform / El Hoyo (Galder Gaztelu-Urrutia, Spanish, 2019) [Netflix] 
- La Llorona / The Weeping Woman (Jayro Bustamante, Guatemalan, 2019) 

Note: the Spanish Civil War took place between 1936-39. Related: Francisco Franco held power between 1939-1975. A number of these films, like Spirit of the Beehive and Pan's Labyrinth, make reference to these developments.


Crypticon Seattle 2026 runs Mar 1-3. Images from Rotten Tomatoes (Édith Scob in Eyes Without a Face), Cineccentric (Simone Signoret and Véra Clouzot in Diabolique), Film Forum (Delphine Seyrig in Daughters of the Darkness), Movieposters.com (María Silva in The Awful Dr. Orloff), BFI Player (Patricia Morán in The Exterminating Angel), and The Criterion Collection (Doug Jones and Ivana Baquero in Pan's Labyrinth).

Saturday, March 7, 2026

Jenny Agutter's Schoolgirl Gets a Sentimental Education in David Greene's I Start Counting

I START COUNTING 
(David Greene, UK, 1970, 105 minutes) 

David Greene's vivid, haunting film is a coming-of-age tale, a folk horror, a serial killer thriller, and a decidedly Catholic take on sex and death.

Though only 16 at the time, Jenny Agutter was not an inexperienced actress, but she brings an impetuousness to the role that makes her performance especially compelling. Though she grew blonder over the years, she has long, brown hair here and a makeup-free face; she acts even younger, which is appropriate for 14-year-old Catholic schoolgirl Wynne. 

Drawing from UK writer Audrey Erskine Lindop's 1966 novel, Greene by way of screenwriter Richard Harris (not that one) never explains what happened to her birth parents or her foster father, and it doesn't really matter. 

Wynne has a foster family consisting of a mother (A Clockwork Orange's Madge Ryan), a brother a few years older (I Could Go on Singing's Gregory Phillips), and another brother (The Spy Who Loved Me's Bryan Marshall) nearly 20 years her senior; younger brother Len (below right) suggests that their mother is divorced when he mentions that she didn't like her husband. 

An older man (Billy Russell), an unbelievably noisy eater, joins them for meals and nights around the telly. Though Greene doesn't spell it out, he's their rather eccentric grandfather, first introduced through a frosted glass window fondling his pet mouse and looking more like a peeper than a relation. Maybe even both.

Wynne's social life revolves around her flirtatious friend, Corinne (Coronation Street's Clare Sutcliffe in her feature-film debut), who favors miniskirts. Wynne is no shrinking violet herself, though she dresses more modestly. 

Greene opens on a bucolic scene: a serene pond, a walking path, and ancient trees that suggest a fairytale, but without any special effects. The folk-tinged baroque-pop theme song, also titled "I Start Counting," that plays over the opening credits makes everything seem slightly surreal. 


Vocalist Lindsey Moore, about whom little is known, recalls Vashti Bunyan, which may have been intentional–Vashti's Jagger-Richards cover "Some Things Just Stick in Your Mind" debuted as a single in 1965–while predicting mesmerizing vocalists like Sarah Nixey of Black Box Recorder, Florence Shaw of Dry Cleaning, and the late Trish Keenan of Broadcast–the latter, as it turns out, were big fans of experimental composer Basil Kirchin (The Abominable Dr. Phibes). His brassy, dissonant score for Greene's 1967 The Shuttered Room, with Carol Lynley and Oliver Reed, is also a treat.

As cinematographer Alex Thomson, an Oscar winner for John Boorman's 1981 Excalibur, pans in on the pond, it becomes clear that something isn't quite right, even before he reveals what's wrong with this pretty picture: a brief glimpse of something partially obscured by underwater flora–the face of an attractive young woman staring sightlessly through dead eyes. 

In only a few seconds, Greene establishes that things are not what they seem. The forest is quite lovely, but a serial killer is on the loose, and no young Berkshire County women, including Wynne and Corinne, are safe. 

With her family, however, Wynne feels secure. She's the only Catholic, and she's fairly devout. There's a crucifix above her twin bed, and she dutifully confesses to a priest–not that she has much to confess. She's a teenager, though, and strange, possibly sinful feelings are stirring inside of her. 

Boys her own age take an interest, but she couldn't be bothered--they have no chill. Corinne fancies her brother Len, a handsome lad who works at a swinging record store and hangs out with a local dealer (Michael Feast, having a ball), indicating that he enjoys the occasional lysergic escapade.

Len isn't a bad guy, but he could be, which is germane to Greene's non-didactic, non-judgmental take on a teenager's libido blinding her to the danger in her midst. It's one thing, after all, to be curious about a serial killer, a common teen obsession, but it's another to court his attention, and that's what Wynne does, under the pretext that he would never hurt her

Granted, there are other men in her life, like the priest (Lewis Priander) and the solicitous conductor (Simon Ward) she and Corinne run into most every time they take the bus to her old neighborhood where they like to muck about in the condemned, two-story home in which Wynne grew up. This state of affairs suggests both a reduction in income and encroaching gentrification, since the Kinch clan now live in a tower block in bland, suburban Bracknell, parts of which appears to be under construction.

Then there's George, the virile 32-year-old brother who lives at home, presumably to help support his family. Even the blond, blue-eyed conductor is handsome, giving Wynne yet another crush option, except he mostly makes eyes at Corinne whose miniskirts rise up when she sits down, though it's something he also criticizes, admonishing, "Your skirts are too short."

When George gazes longingly at a black-and-white photo of him and a young woman, Greene suggests a lost love (a flashback reveals a fatal fall). He's single now, and gainfully employed. He also dotes on Wynne, who has developed a major crush, which would be bad enough, except she also believes he's the killer, since he's been leaving clues about a secret life. 

From the start, Greene confirms that she's right about the secret, but doesn't explain whether or not he's the killer--until the end--but what should scare Wynne away, compels her. The director doesn't provide a reason, and nor is it necessary. The film would be less intriguing, less resonant if he did. 

If you were ever a teenage girl, you probably had a crush at some point on the worst person. Not the worst in terms of their persona, but the worst for you. We've all been there. Though a man could have written the novel, I'm not surprised that a woman did, and though it would have been interesting to see how a woman would have adapted it, Greene always honors Wynne's perspective, as blinkered as it may be. Everything unfolds through her eyes.

George prepares for each day with the bathroom door open, so she watches him shave and put on his shirt, but nothing more intimate than that.

One day, she notices scratches on his back, presumably from a woman's nails. Later, since she spies on him whenever she can, she catches him placing a package in the garbage cans outside their building. When she gets the chance, she snatches the bundle and brings it back to her room, where she opens it up to find a cream-colored sweater with a sizable blood stain. 

She doesn't tell Corinne, she doesn't confront George, and she doesn't inform the authorities; she simply ramps up her campaign of surveillance. Greene suggests that it's possibly even a turn-on. A contemporary filmmaker might be more explicit, but I prefer his subtlety and restraint.

She has fantasies, for instance, like one in which her hand slides under her crisp, white sheets while thinking about George--and as Christ looks down from the cross above--or when she's taking a bath, and he walks in, and places a hand on her shoulder. She quickly comes to, which keeps Greene on the right side of the censors, but also suggests that she doesn't know what would happen next. She's a virgin, and it's possible that Corinne is, too, though she brags that she's had sex seven times. "Seven!," she yells.

Wynne also asks George questions designed to trip him up, but phrased so that they sound as innocuous as possible. It mostly confuses him. "You're a funny little biscuit," he responds to one of her odd inquiries. He knows about the crush, but seems oblivious to her suspicions. 

In addition to fantasies, Greene inserts flashbacks, like one in which Wynne remembers George handing her a silver foil-wrapped box for her birthday, while everyone looks on eagerly. She opens it to find a white rabbit with red eyes and a Victorian outfit. I believe he's meant to recall Lewis Carroll's White Rabbit–which makes Wynne Alice and the forest her Wonderland. 

The rabbit is, frankly, pretty scary-looking, but Wynne hugs and even sleeps with it in a way that suggests she's still a child, and also that she associates the creature with the handsome human who gave it to her. If anything, she appears to imagine she's embracing his body rather than that of a toy. 

To protect George, she returns to the old house and incinerates the sweater using the cast iron stove. Each time, Greene makes it clear that someone is both following and spying on her, whether she's with Corinne or not. 

We learn more about George when Wynne visits him at work. The film's only nudity is plastered all over the wall: dozens of nudie cuties. It's yet another sign that he prefers adult women, though she barely notices. She's so besotted that she believes love is all he needs, explaining, "When people have people who love them, they don't have to worry about anything." Later, she tells him, "I understand you, and I don't want anyone to hurt you." 

In other words, he'll stop the strangling once he accepts Wynne as his savior. He never takes the hint, because he always sees her as a child. 

That doesn't mean her crush has no basis in reality. George may not see her as an adult, but he sees her in a way no one else does. She's neither alone nor lonely, just a little odd, and he's always happy to humor her oddities and to give her a ride whenever he has time. He even tells her she's pretty, though she seems more embarrassed than flattered by the compliment. 

As her campaign heats up, she makes mistakes, finds out things she wishes she hadn't–not necessarily what she expected–and gets in trouble, but Greene never overplays his hand. 

(The scene in which she overindulges in George's hooch is hilarious.) Wynne even tries to seduce him, the most cringe-worthy thing she could do. I've gone to bat for melodrama, but that isn't what's happening here. Though not quite a kitchen sink drama, it's more grounded than that, but nor is it a tragedy or full-blown cautionary tale. Unlike some women in the film, Wynne will live to make more mistakes in the future, but falling for another potential murderer seems unlikely. 

I went into I Start Counting cold, other than an encounter by way of Kier-La Janisse's wonderful 2021 documentary, Woodlands Dark and Days Bewitched: A History of Folk Horror–I credit her for encouraging me to track it down–and didn't know how things would end, but the metaphor of the house in the woods becomes crystal clear. (Though it doesn't appear in Janisse's 2012 book, House of Psychotic Women, the film would fit right in.)

The storyline is neither wholly unpredictable, nor otherwise. Wynne gets an education in adulthood, sex, and  life, and it's consistently gripping, due largely to Jenny Agutter and her touching vulnerability combined with a certain fearlessness, but everything–and everyone else–lives up to it. 

Compared to the films with which it shares  thematic similarities, like Michael Powell's Peeping Tom, Jerzy Skolimowksi's Deep End, and even Hitchcock's lurid Frenzy (which features Madge Ryan), I Start Counting is a gentler proposition, but what it suggests about the lure of danger, the compulsion to control the object of one's affection, and the invincible power of love, is every bit as dark. It's just that it's filtered through an adolescent worldview. 

In her commentary track, Samm Deighan mentions an earlier Hitchcock film: 1943's Shadow of a Doubt with Teresa Wright and Joseph Cotton. Though it didn't occur to me until she mentioned it, she's right. Uncle Charlie is more problematic than George, but the film also revolves around a young woman's affinity for a man to whom she just happens to be related. 

Hitchcock made the film during the height of the production code, and he had to be more circumspect than Greene, though I don't recall any sexual spark between the two, but like Wynne, Charlie sees her uncle as something other than who he actually is, while the elder Charlie–they share the same name–makes her feel seen. She may bring out his best qualities, but that doesn't change the fact that he's a bad man. Nor does it mean his affection for her is insincere, assuming a sociopath is capable of affection, and therein lies the tragedy, because she loves him, but he's beyond redemption. 

In short order, Agutter would go on to star in Walkabout, Logan's Run, and An American Werewolf in London–setting hearts aflame all the while–but she doesn't just play a minor in Greene's film. As she reveals in the interview included with the restored Fun City Editions Blu-ray, "He told the entire crew not to swear in front of me." It's doubtful he issued the same proclamation regarding Clare Sutcliffe. Though she successfully passes for an obnoxious, self-obsessed teenager, Sutcliffe was a full decade older than Agutter–and five years older than the more mature-looking Gregory Phillips. 

I've continued to enjoy the now-73-year-old Agutter's performances on British television shows that often turn up on PBS, like SpooksMI-5 in the States–and Call the Midwife, now in its 15th season, in which the actress who once appeared fully nude in a Nicolas Roeg picture at 16, plays Sister Julienne, a fully-covered Mother Superior. She does quite a nice job, too, in a role with faint echoes of the devout schoolgirl she played 56 years ago.

I Start Counting is now out of print in the States, though a Region 2 edition exists through the British Film Institute, and it's packed with twice as many extra features, including the 2020 interview with Agutter and Deighan's informative, context-rich commentary. Used copies of the former now go for as much as $129.99 on eBay, though less expensive copies abound. 

I have faith that the film will return to home video in the States in the not-too-distant future. Thanks to Kier-La Janisse and other influential enthusiasts, it's unlikely to ever disappear completely and consistently likely to discomfort and bedazzle each new viewer who makes its acquaintance. 

 
I Start Counting and The Shuttered Room are both available on YouTube. 

Images: ithankyou (Jenny Agutter), Mondo Digital (Billy Russell, Madge Ryan, and Gregory Phillips), the IMDb (Berkshire forest, Agutter in forest, and Agutter and Bryan Marshall), Trailers from Hell (Agutter and Clare Sutcliffe), The Kim Newman Web Site (Agutter and Marshall), Fopp (Agutter and creepy rabbit), Cinema Retro (Agutter and Marshall), American Cinematheque (Teresa Wright and Joseph Cotten), and eBay (Walkabout).

Sunday, March 1, 2026

Horror from Around the World: Canada

Since I posted a list of horror westerns last year after moderating a panel at Crypticon, I figured I should probably post lists from other subgenre or country-specific panels in which I've moderated and/or participated over the years. 

In every case, I put together a preliminary list before crowd-sourcing for more. I compiled this Canadian one in 2018 for a panel called Horror From Around the World. Since then, Jason Weiss and I have moderated panels on French and Spanish horror; I'll also post those lists at some point. If you see any key Canadian titles missing, please feel free to let me know. 

In order by release date, plus directors and notable cast members.

1960s - 1970s

The Mask (Julian Roffman; cowriter Slavko Vorkapich, 3-D, 1961) 
Cannibal Girls (Ivan Reitman, 1973) 
The Pyx (Harvey Hart; Karen Black and Christopher Plummer, 1973)  
Black Christmas (Bob Clark; Olivia Hussey, Keir Dullea, Margot Kidder, and Andrea Martin, 1974)  
Ilsa; She Wolf of the SS (Don Edmonds, 1975) 
Shivers (David Cronenberg, 1975) 
Sudden Fury (Brian Damude, 1975) 
House by the Lake/Death Weekend (William Fruet; Brenda Vaccaro, 1976) 
The Haunting of Julia (Richard Loncraine; Mia Farrow, Keir Dullea, and Tom Conti, 1977) 
Rabid (David Cronenberg; Marilyn Chambers, 1977) 
Rituals (Peter Carter; Hal Holbrook 1977) 
The Brood (David Cronenberg; Samantha Eggar and Oliver Reed, 1979) 

1980s - 1990s

The Changeling (Peter Medak; George C. Scott, 1980) 
Prom Night (Paul Lynch; Jamie Lee Curtis and Leslie Nielsen, 1980) 
Terror Train (Roger Spottiswoode; Jamie Lee Curtis, Ben Johnson, 1981) 
Happy Birthday to Me (J. Lee Thompson; Melissa Sue Anderson and Glenn Ford, 1981) 
My Bloody Valentine (George Mihalka, 1981) 
The Pit (Lew Lehman, 1981) 
Scanners (David Cronenberg; Jennifer O'Neill and Patrick McGoohan 1981) 
Curtains (Richard Ciupka and Peter R. Simpson, 1983) 
Videodrome (David Cronenberg; James Woods and Debbie Harry, 1983) 
The Fly (David Cronenberg; Jeff Goldblum and Geena Davis, 1986) 
Pin (Sandor Stern, Terry O'Quinn, 1988) 
Tales from the Gimli Hospital (Guy Maddin, 1988) 
Careful (Guy Maddin, 1992) 
Kissed (Lynne Stopkewich; Molly Parker, 1996) 
Cube (Vincenzo Natali, 1997) 
Top of the Food Chain (John Paisz; Campbell Scott, 1999) 

2000s - 2010s

Ginger Snaps (John Fawcett; Katherine Isabelle, 2000) 
Dracula: Pages from a Virgin's Diary (Guy Maddin, 2002) 
Cube Zero (Ernie Barbarash, 2004) 
Ginger Snaps Back (Grant Harvey, Katherine Isabelle, 2004) 
Ginger Snaps 2: Unleashed (Brett Sullivan; Katherine Isabelle, 2004) 
Pontypool (Bruce McDonald; Stephen McHattie, 2009) 
Splice (Vincenzo Natali; Adrien Brody and Sarah Polley, 2009) 
The Wild Hunt (Alexandre Franchi, 2009) 
Tucker and Dale vs Evil (Eli Craig; Tyler Labine and Alan Tudyk, 2010) 
American Mary (Jen and Sylvia Soska; Katherine Isabelle, 2012) 
Enemy (Denis Villeneuve; Jake Gyllenhall and Sarah Gadon, 2013) 
Back Country (Adam MacDonald, 2014) 
Black Mountain Side (Nick Szostakiwskyj, 2014) 
Pyewacket (Adam MacDonald, 2017) 
What Keeps You Alive (Colin Minihan, 2018) 

Thanks to all who contributed suggestions, especially my Seattle Film Critics Society colleague, Sara Michelle Fetters, who often writes about horror at Moviefreak.com. All images from the IMDb (Olivia Hussey in Black Christmas, Claudette Nevins in The Mask, and Georgina Reilly in Pontypool).

Monday, February 23, 2026

Abbie Cornish Astonishes in Australian Filmmaker Cate Shortland’s Debut, Somersault

SOMERSAULT 
(Cate Shortland, Australia, 2004, 106 minutes) 

In her directorial debut, Somersault, Australian filmmaker Cate Shortland turns the idea of the unlikable protagonist on its head by portraying her central character with the kind of empathy this young woman craves. 

Sixteen-year-old Heidi (Abbie Cornish with white-blonde hair and eyebrows, lending her a look both feral and ethereal) has been coasting through life on her looks. She doesn't appear to have any particular interests, though she does carry a scrapbook and a glue stick with her wherever she goes. 

The film has hardly begun when she seduces her mother's boyfriend, Adam (Damian De Montemas). She starts by asking about his tattoo, touching it, and giving him a kiss. Things proceed from there–until her mother, Nicole (Olivia Pigeot), catches them in the act. After making herself persona non grata, Heidi catches a bus from Canberra, where Shortland grew up, to the alpine resort town of Jindabyne where she knows exactly one person. 
 
When her attempt to stay with the former fling goes awry, Heidi drops by a local watering hole, and finds Sean (Ben Tate), another man with whom to crash, though he's mostly just looking for a good time. She gives him what he wants, but it's unclear if it's also what she wants (Cornish, 21 at the time, has several nude scenes). After Sean and his friends--who appear to be skiers--head back to Sydney, she's on her own again, looking for a job and a place to stay. 

She meets Joe (Avatar's Sam Worthington with a spiky mullet), the son of a wealthy farmer, at a rustic diner. They banter for a bit, and though he seems to find her attractive, he isn't exactly swept off his feet, possibly because of the age gap. Convinced they made a connection, she insists on coming home with him, but things end much as they did with his predecessor. Fortunately, kindly motel manager Irene (a warm, maternal Lynette Curran) gives her a temporary place to stay: her metal-head son's old apartment. 

Heidi gets a job at a petrol station next. Though she and Joe meet again, it's hard to tell if he just likes sleeping with her, or if he likes her as a person. 

He's more reserved, and as it turns out, has problems of his own. The actors have chemistry, though–quite a bit. Since Heidi doesn't have any friends, there's a sense that she doesn't know how to relate to women her own age, with the possible exception of her coworker Bianca (Hollie Andrew).
 
This isn't the kind of film where the director focuses exclusively on the central character. Once Joe enters the scene, Shortland shows what he gets up to when he isn't with Heidi. He has one friend, an older gay man (Erik Thomson), who doesn't judge him, and another, a straight man around his age, who does. That friend considers Heidi low class, loose–a slut
 
There's another man in town, Bianca's stepfather (Paul Gleeson), who shares the same sentiments, because Heidi flirted with him when she was looking for a job, a decision she comes to regret. He engages in a form of sexism that may not be overt, but it's definitely insidious, and leaves her feeling more like an outsider than ever. Though it's hardly great that she put the moves on her mom's boyfriend, this confused young woman is more than her worst impulses. If anything, she makes the tightly-wound Joe uncomfortable, because she wears her heart on her sleeve. 
 
In Jindabyne, Heidi comes to find she can't run away from her problems when the primary problem is her. It doesn't mean she deserves the treatment she receives, or that she doesn't deserve happiness, just that she needs to learn to have more faith in herself and not to let others define her. 
 
Fortunately, none of this is heavy-handed. Heidi does eventually have a breakdown, but it forces a necessary reckoning. By the end, she isn't so unlikable after all. At the very least, she's more understandable. Nonetheless, in looking through the film's original reviews, I found that women responded more favorably to the film. Two male critics went so far as to describe Heidi as "trampy," which makes me think they missed the point of the thing (kudos to Scott Tobias and Neil Young for their more considered responses).  
 
As for Cornish, she's quite astonishing, whether singing "The Clapping Song" to herself while wandering through the forest or dancing in her skivvies to Alvin Stardust's "My Coo Ca Choo," she's always alive in the moment.
 
I get why Australian actors who made their mark at home would move to the United States where they can secure work that pays better and reaches more people. It worked for Nicole Kidman and for a while it worked for Eric Bana and Simon Baker, too, though both actors eventually returned to Australia where, to my mind, they’ve been doing more interesting work.
 
Since she moved to the States, Cornish has been working steadily, and for all I know she's perfectly happy, but I believe she's given her best performances in Australian films, like 2006's Candy with Heath Ledger and, especially, Jane Campion's 2009 Bright Star with Ben Whishaw. 

In the States, she's worked on more commercial projects that have asked less from her to the extent that Somersault might startle anyone only familiar with Sucker Punch, Limitless, or Prime Video's Jack Ryan, because she absolutely holds the screen in an intensely challenging role.
 
Unlike her leading lady, Cate Shortland has worked primarily in Australia. A surprising exception was Marvel's 2021 standalone feature Black Widow with Scarlett Johansson. On the basis of her previous, modestly-budgeted features, that's not a move I would have seen coming, though her track record as a director of women-in-peril films led Johansson to insist on her, telling Variety that 2012's World War II-set Lore is "a perfect film."
 
Actors and directors sometimes meet at just the right time, and that was the case with Shortland, who was making her first feature after several shorts, and Cornish, who was playing her first lead after several supporting roles. 

Somersault is an exceptionally fine film, eminently deserving of restoration and rediscovery. It's beautifully shot by The Hunter's Robert Humphries and scored with delicacy and restraint by Sydney outfit Decoder Ring, resulting in something simultaneously electric and affecting in its depiction of the kind of young woman too easily dismissed as "easy" when she's anything but. 
 

Somersault plays New York's Metrograph through Feb 28 and opens at Austin Film Society Mar 8 and Toronto's Paradise Theatre Mar 13. No Seattle dates yet–if at all–but it comes to VOD Mar 27. Images from Film Movement via Reverse Shot (Abbie Cornish and Sam Worthington), Google Play (Cornish), TV Guide (Cornish and Lynette Curran), and AFI (Cornish).  

Thursday, February 12, 2026

What’s Cooler Than Cool: Michael Almereyda’s Vampire Tale Nadja with Elina Löwensohn

NADJA 
(Michael Almereyda, USA, 1994, 
93 minutes) 
I say what's, what's cooler than being cool? (Ice cold)
--Outcast, "Hey Ya!" (2003)
 
The essence of 1990s cool, Michael Almereyda's black and white mood piece infuses German Expressionism with post-punk attitude. "Nights…nights without sleep," Nadja (Romanian-American actor Elina Löwensohn, who had appeared in Schindler's List the year before) intones at the outset as the filmmaker superimposes her image over fog-enshrouded New York City.

Almereyda then catches up with Nadja on a date explaining that she doesn't have to work, because she comes from money. Her father didn't have to work either, and for the same reason. The night ends with Nadja feeding on her date. She may not have to work, but to survive: she needs to feed.

Cinematographer Jim Denault shot the sequence in Pixelvision–a toy camera created by Fisher Price–and the effect is more arty than scary even as the ravenous vampire ends up with blood all over her face. I was also reminded of surveillance footage, something which will play into Almereyda's 2000 ultra-paranoid, modern-dress version of Hamlet with Ethan Hawke. 

As Nadja's late-night perambulations continue, she drops by an underpopulated, Edward Hopper-esque diner where she asks Lucy (actor-turned-author Galaxy Craze), an androgynous-looking woman, for a light, and they proceed to smoke and engage in a rather personal conversation for two people who just met. She appears to be looking for a friend when she confesses things like, "I'm so alone," but as the evening continues, their platonic rapport turns sexual--even though Lucy isn't exactly single.

While Nadja flirts, fucks, and feasts her way across the city, Van Helsing (Peter Fonda in longhair-hippie mode) kills her father and plots with his nephew, Jim (Martin Donovan), Lucy's oblivious husband, about how to eliminate more of her kind. To him, vampires are "raving idiots, insane, monsters, deformed, the walking dead." A silent movie-style flashback, which evokes F.W. Murnau's Nosferatu, suggests he used to feel otherwise. 

(Since Fonda also plays Nadja's father in flashbacks, it's worth noting that the Beatles took inspiration for 1966's "She Said She Said" from Fonda's declaration, "I know what it's like to be dead," while tripping on acid.)

Beyond Murnau, Almereyda drew from Bram Stoker's Dracula, André Breton's semiautobiographical novel Nadja, Carl Theodor Dreyer's gothic horror Vampyr, and Lambert Hillyer's Dracula's Daughter, a stylish 1936 film about an aristocratic foreigner (below) seeking out London's prettiest necks.

Though Nadja seems lonely, she has a male companion, Renfield (Almereyda mainstay Karl Geary), but he's more like an assistant--"a slave," as she puts it--than a friend or lover. She also has a twin, Edgar (Jared Harris with passable Romanian accent), except he's in a sort of coma, though it isn't clear if he's a vampire or just severely anemic. His nurse Cassandra (Suzi Amis), Jim's sister, serves as his companion. (Three years after starring in Titanic, Amis married James Cameron, and stopped acting around the same time. It's possible she doesn't miss it, but seeing her again made me a little sad.) 

With Nadja's help, Edgar gets better, while Lucy, who has fallen under her sway, gets worse. What appears to be a case of vampirism, however, turns out to be more of a psychic ill, since Nadja, like Countess Marya in Dracula's Daughter, can also communicate and control minds telepathically. 

Though Nadja could rest on her laurels after hypnotizing Lucy, she sets out to make Cassandra her next victim, which leads the nurse to flee Edgar's abode, except no one can ever really escape the vampire. The chase leads to the twins' Romanian castle at which the entire extended family will meet. 

I'm not certain how Almereyda decided which sequences to shoot in 35mm and which in Pixelvision, though it seems more random than not with the exception of the more violent encounters. Then again, Nadja follows his second feature, 1992's Another Girl, Another Planet, also with Löwensohn, which Jim Denault shot entirely in Pixelvision before transferring to 16mm. 

There isn't a lot to Nadja, but if you surrender to its spell, a good time awaits, and I found the final sequence quite transcendent. It also predicts the cool-cat vampire tales to come, like Jim Jarmusch's Only Lovers Left Alive, which takes place in the beautiful ruins of Detroit and Tangier, and Ana Lily Amirpour's Farsi-language A Girl Walks Home Alone at Night, which transfers Persian and French New Wave aesthetics to suburban Bakersfield. 

Nonetheless, the story of its making is nearly as compelling as the film itself, since David Lynch and then-wife Mary Sweeney produced and funded the picture--Lynch also cameos as a loopy morgue attendant--and Peter Fonda, who would receive a richly deserved Oscar nod for Victor Nuñez's Ulee’s Gold only three years later, was so enthusiastic about the project that he flew to New York on his own dime and volunteered his services (not the done thing for an actor at any level). I would like to think that Van Helsing's reflective sunglasses are a nod to his mirrored shades in the era-defining Easy Rider

Almereyda also stacked the deck with alt-rock and trip-hop, but while working on the restoration with Arbelos, he axed the Portishead and My Bloody Valentine tracks to make way for more of Simon Fisher Turner's shimmering score. This will surely disappoint fans of the original version, though Fisher Turner's score really is pretty terrific, and it was probably quite a coup in 1994 to secure the services of Derek Jarman's favored composer.  

The central character, however, remains the same. When it comes to vampire films, the casting is crucial, and Bucharest-born Elina Löwensohn, with her Louise Brooks-meets-Anna Karina good looks, spectral intensity, and deadpan affect is as perfect for the role of Nadja as Hungarian-born Béla Ferenc Dezső Blaskó, aka Bela Lugosi, was for Count Dracula.


Nadja, in a new 4K edition, opens at The Beacon Cinema on Fri, Feb 13. Images from Le Cinema Club (Elina Löwensohn), Center for Contemporary Arts - Santa Fe (Löwensohn and Galaxy Craze), MUBI (Gloria Holden), Indiewire (David Lynch), and Arbelos / Grasshopper (Peter Fonda).